


unlikely

by orphan_account



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Enjoy!, M/M, Slow Burn, why am i starting a new fic despite having many other to finish? bc im a dumb bitch djkfg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-26 22:35:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17150333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Cisco Ramon has worked on a farm for his whole life. He knows how to take care of himself and he knows more than enough about hard work. When his family sends him to the gates of royalty for a position as a servant for Marquess Harrison Wells, he is anything but happy. The two clash and Cisco's sharp tongue and knack for innovation intrigue Harry. The more they learn about each other, the further their lives intertwine and soon they become more intimate than just servant and royalty.





	1. Kansas

             A loud clanging from the house shattered the serenity of nature in the evening. Golden fields of grass and crops were a welcome sight that Cisco looked forward to at the end of a workday. He stood there, hands on his hips as his chest rose and fell with every breath, admiring the sun setting in the pink and blue sky. He felt sweat dripping down his flushed face and strands of hair clinging to his neck as a token of his hard work. Even the banging of the pot and the shouts of his mother were contentedly familiar.

             “Leave it, you’ve done enough,” she shouted between the noise, “come eat and finish later!”

             Cisco turned and shouted in acknowledgement. He’d completed everything he’d needed to today and all that was left was cleaning the farmer’s barn. As his mother ducked back in, Cisco closed his eyes and breathed in the crisp air. There wasn’t much else that he loved more than the world in the evening; everything settles and with a final array of brilliance shown in sunsets, wildlife, and cool fall air, prepares to sleep. If his mother didn’t nag for him to come inside and eat, he would’ve stayed till the sun dropped below the horizon. Running up the rocky hill to his house, Cisco felt his legs getting heavier and heavier but forced himself to continue till he reached the small stone steps. With a final farewell to the sun, Cisco climbed up and stepped through the patched curtains and into the stone building.

             An aroma of spices and tender meat hit him immediately and Cisco realized how hungry he truly was. He gulped as his mouth watered and went to sit down at the small table in the middle of the kitchen. Eyeing his mother moving around the room, Cisco waited for his plate.

             “No way, _mijo_ ,” she said, “you stink like the cows. Wash first and then eat.”

             With a groan, Cisco got up, knowing there was no point in arguing with his mother. He only hoped there was enough water laid out that he could just dump it onto himself and dry off afterwards. _Hello once again,_ Cisco thought as he stepped outside. He looked around and saw a bucket sitting on the stone floor by the bushes. It was mostly full so Cisco took it and methodically dumped it over his head. The sudden hit of the cold water took his breath away and as soon as he dropped the bucket, the wind picked up. Trying not to whimper, Cisco definitely did not hop frantically till he got back inside. He ran to his room before his mother began complaining about making the kitchen floor wet and stripped off the soaked clothes, changing into whatever was lying around his bed. Wet strands of hair dampened his shirt but he was too hungry to care.

             “Call your father,” his mother said as he stepped back into the kitchen.

             “Papa, its dinner time,” Cisco shouted, not bothering to go to the other room.

             The kitchen seemed to darken as the sun dipped below the horizon and Cisco felt the vibe of the room shift. As if on cue, the wind picked up immediately after. Cisco’s eyes shifted to the clank of the plate on the table as he slid into a chair. At the sight of the Arroz con Pollo, Cisco felt his heart beat faster in excitement. It was his favourite meal, especially after a long day. He barely noticed his parents and brother join him at the table when he started digging in.

             “Slow down, Cisco,” Dante teased as he picked up a spoon, “you’re gonna choke.”

             Cisco rolled his eyes but kept eating. Only when he neared the end of his meal did he realize how quiet everyone had been through the entirety of it. Deciding to ignore it, Cisco took a large gulp of water and with a content sigh, leaned back in his chair.

             “Glad to see you enjoyed it,” his mother spoke. Something about her voice was off. It was too timid. Nothing like the fussy and straightforward woman he was used to.

             “I did,” Cisco said slowly, “is something wrong? None of you have spoken. You haven’t even tried to annoy the crap out of me, Dante.”

             At the mention of his name, Dante looked away, fiddling with his knife. Cisco noticed his mother and father glancing between him and each other. _Oh no,_ Cisco recognized their expressions as of those bearing bad news. What truly worried him was that even Dante felt some sort of way from whatever this information was. Usually, he would just bat an eye and pretend unfortunate news didn’t bother him in the slightest. Cisco’s father broke the silence.

             “Listen, Cisco,” his voice was low and serious, “we got an offer. You mother and I have talked about it already and…” he paused and Cisco saw that he couldn’t make eye contact, “we think it’ll really help us.”

             “Okay,” Cisco responded, “what is it? A job that’s far away?”

             “Do you know of the Marquess?” His father stumbled slightly over the unfamiliar word. “He has sent out an offer for a servant. It pays very well.”

             That was a surprise. Cisco knew his family wasn’t well off. They never have been and he doubted they ever would be. Despite this, they still got by. They made enough money from selling crops and food, and Dante’s performances made a little here and there. Cisco even earned some by fixing people’s belongings once in a while. They weren’t well off but…a _servant_ for royalty wasn’t something he expected his father to turn to.

             “You’re gonna work as a servant,” Cisco crossed his arms, “for a Marquess? Which Marquess and why?”

             His mother’s mouth parted and shut just as quickly. They weren’t looking at him—any of them. His father’s face showed no emotion and Dante chewed his lip, biting back whatever he wanted to say. Now that _definitely_ wasn’t like him.

             “Not me,” Cisco’s father said abruptly, “you.”

             Someone laughed. It was short and loud and it took Cisco a moment to realize it was him.

             “Me?” He asked meekly, not knowing what else to say. “Why me?”

             “The preference was for someone below fourty years old,” his mother finally spoke, “and you’re the best choice, _mijo_.” Cisco tried to ignore her almost pleading tone.

             “Why?” Cisco cursed himself for his shaky voice. “We don’t need to.”

             “Come on, Cisco,” Dante spoke suddenly, a hint of bitterness in his voice, “you know damn well we haven’t got enough good crops these past few months.”

             Though he hated to admit it, Cisco knew he was right. There was only one rainfall in the spring and the rest of the days after that were dry and cold. Barely anything viable grew and they still had to spend money on basic needs as well as feeding the animals. But why him? Why not Dante? He knew his way around physical labour and he was sure as hell more informed regarding royalty than Cisco was. Whenever he’d seen Dante reading, the book was always about the history of kings and queens or whatever. Cisco only knew about farming, building, and taking things apart. Sure, he was likeable, but it took more than that to be a servant for a Marquess.

             “Fine,” Cisco said, willing his voice to still, “you’re right. But why-why me? Why not Dante?”

             “Your brother’s performances are starting to get picked up more and more,” Cisco felt anger flare inside him at the excitement in his mother’s voice as she spoke; “we think it would be better if he kept doing those. He can’t waste time as a servant.”

             Now that hurt. Of course, Dante couldn’t possibly stoop so low as to be a _servant_ —that’s Cisco’s calling! For all their lives, Cisco had always been the ‘other brother.’ Dante found his passion for music and as soon as he showed promise in it, they spent money to help him. They bought him his own guitar and even saved up for a small piano. It irked Cisco whenever they stared on in admiration as Dante played his pieces. Nothing Cisco did impressed them. He could build anything he put his mind too and he regularly fixed things around the house. Without any help or guidelines, Cisco took apart and reassembled his father’s broken watch, handing the ticking thing back with a bright smile. His father merely grumbled thanks and put it aside. Nothing else. From then on, Cisco had learned to develop thick skin and ignored the favouritism. But now it cut deep.

             “Of course,” Cisco scoffed, “I’ll pack my shit today.”

             He pushed away from the table, ignoring the bang of his chair hitting the ground. Voices from the table rose as he stomped out the door, slamming it shut behind him. A crack came from it and Cisco winced, knowing he’d have to fix it later. _No,_ he thought, _they can fix it themselves._ The dark and moonlit sky illuminated mere outlines of the path in front of him as Cisco jogged down the hill. Contemplating whether or not to hide out in the barn, Cisco stared up at the stars. He knew how big they truly were but right now everything felt small. Cursing, Cisco refused to let himself cry. He took a wobbly breathe and closed his eyes.

             With a final string of curses, Cisco made his way to the barn, the familiar smell of dung and hay was a welcome distraction. Grabbing a shovel and wheelbarrow, he made his way through the dirty ground. The animals bleated and mewed, wondering why he was here so late. Doing nothing to conserve his energy, Cisco swung the shovel angrily, feeling his already spent muscles burn with each movement. He didn’t care. No one came out to find him and Cisco finished cleaning in a few hours. By now it was nearly midnight. He sat in the hay, breathing heavily, face twisted in exhaustion.

\--

             The autumn weather didn’t aid in cooling down the skin when you’ve worked for hours on end. Your muscles burned with every contraction as if your blood was boiling within them. However, when working from light to dark without stopping has been your whole life, the burn becomes a second thought. A strenuous and tedious life becomes routine—one that you would be anxious to part with as you’ve known nothing but labour for as long as you can remember. To Cisco Ramon, a life of physical, arduous work was one he was familiar with; it was a life he was content with.

             But the life he’s content with was still free. A life of work for someone else wasn’t something Cisco wanted.


	2. Marquess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so it begins...hope you enjoy!

             Cisco went by boat instead of a carriage to Marquess Harrison Wells’ manor. It saved time and he much preferred seeing the unfamiliar sea pass by rather than the shops and buildings he’d know for his whole life. His family had said a haste, guilt-filled goodbye and Cisco was okay with that. He didn’t want to speak to them for any longer than he needed to. It would be quite a while until he would be able to see them again and yet, Cisco couldn’t find it within himself to feel sad. They wanted him away so why should he feel bad for doing just that?

             He had paid for the trip himself, refusing his mother’s offers of money. A bag of old clothes and useless trinkets were the only things Cisco bothered packing, leaving everything else in his room. He wondered if his mother would even bother cleaning it while he was away. Parting from his family in such a depressing way left a bad taste in Cisco’s mouth. He didn’t know how to feel or who to blame. They needed the money but where was his say in this? A sense of guilt tinged the idea of straight out refusing to be a servant as Cisco felt he was bringing his family down by not taking the job. He felt stuck like the decision was made for him and a false sense of ‘choice’ was offered. It felt like he couldn’t refuse to take the job.

             As the boat bobbed, Cisco heard the clatter of coins in his pocket and placed his hand over them. Squinting at the glare off the water, he glanced around, finding a vague silhouette of land in the boat’s path. It looked to stretch forever across the horizon and Cisco was able to make out the figures of large buildings as they neared. He wanted to ask the man in charge of the sails for the fifth time how much longer till they reached the city but refrained. Cisco had never been to a place as crowded and refined as Central City and he felt ambivalent at the fact he was somewhat excited. On one hand, he was heading to the city for the sole purpose of becoming a servant for the Marquess but on the other, there didn’t seem to be any reason why he shouldn’t enjoy the sights.

             An hour (as Cisco assumed) of bubbling eagerness and excitement went by before they finally reached land. The captain expertly tied the boat to the large docks and helped Cisco out. His legs felt weak and they ached like he’d run for miles, despite the fact he’d been sitting for hours on end. It felt good to stretch his muscles out as Cisco breathed in the air. The coolness from the sea mixed with the strange heaviness of the air from the city was something he’d never experienced before.

             When Cisco finally studied the area around him, his breath caught. The streets lined with lights and the quaint, crowded shops seemed dull compared to the structure a few kilometres away. It was the most beautiful building he had ever seen. An intricate white structure as tall as the rock faces Cisco had climbed back home loomed over the busy city. Almost immediately, Cisco recognized it as the Marquess’ manor. From his point of view, Cisco could count eleven windows that lined the seamless walls and looked to be bigger than him. When he took a closer look, Cisco noticed three tower-like structures that jutted out of the mainframe of the building. Atop them were flags of the country and city, as well as some Cisco didn’t recognize. Intricate regal designs lined the outer walls, showing off the power and nobility that lay within it.

             A new feeling of childlike wonder rose in him as he paid the sailor and thanked him. Making his way down the dock and past the bustling crowds of people to the stone streets, Cisco felt more and more like a stranger. Everything felt foreign to him. The way people dressed, spoke, moved, and lived was nothing like what Cisco was used to. They didn’t stop and greet him or even give nod as they hurriedly made their way through the streets. It seemed like everyone had a place they needed to get to.

             “Oh, excuse me,” Cisco said loudly as a young man bumped into him.

             “Yeah, yeah, watch it,” was all he grumbled as he slid past.

             Moving out from the crowd and into the empty area in front of what Cisco assumed was a tailor’s shop, he leaned against the wall and studied the city. Somehow, he had to get to the manor before evening. Right now it was the afternoon and Cisco only had a few more hours. A carriage seemed like the best option but Cisco had no idea how or where to get one. A dreaded feeling nudged at him.

             “Hey, you don’t look like you’re from around here,” a voice pierced through the bustle of the city. Cisco turned to see a short, round man leaning on the wall beside him. He wore a three-piece suit and a hat that Cisco had never seen before. The crow’s feet around his eyes became apparent when he grinned as Cisco made eye contact.

             “No, sir,” Cisco said, “I’m from the country. You know, across the waters.”

             “Well, what brings you here then?”

             “I’m hoping to get to the Marquess’ manor.”

             The man went quiet for a moment before he tilted his head back and gave a hearty laugh. Cisco didn’t know what was funny.

             “Why? Are you planning on marrying him?”

             “Uh,” Cisco was lost, “no sir? I’m hoping to become a servant.” It felt strange to say that. He wasn’t _hoping._ Sure, he _was_ technically _choosing_ to become a servant but it still felt more like his family was making the decision for him.

             “Ah, I see,” he stroked his stubbled chin, “not to scare you off but I would rather live on the streets that work for a man like the Marquess.” _That bad, huh._

             “Yes, I heard he’s quite a handful,” Cisco said, trying to lighten the load, “but the job pays well.”

             “Money or not, I might get killed for trying to beat the man senseless,” the stranger replied, “He doesn’t listen to anyone.”

             “Yes, speaking of,” Cisco interrupted before the man could rant, “could you possibly tell me how I would get to the manor?”

             “Come on, boy,” the man chuckled, “you travel all the way here and don’t know what to do afterwards? Fine, come with me.”

             Cisco thanked the man as he followed him through the street, trying not to get swept away by the people. They came to stop in the middle of an area surrounded by shops of various themes. A bakery beside a locksmith’s, a clothier beside a candle maker, and some other jobs that Cisco didn’t recognize. He turned his attention back to the man who brought him here as he talked to someone. The other stranger was taller and looked as if he could do nothing but frown. Cisco picked up pieces of the conversation. _Carriage, pay,_ and _‘the prick’s home”_ was all that stood out. The taller man nodded and gestured for Cisco to follow him.

             “He’ll take you to the manor,” the short man said, “just pay him ten coins and nothing more.”

             Cisco nodded and thanked him once again. He followed the sombre man to a carriage, the noise of the city lessening slightly as he slipped in. Cisco still had no idea what he was to do once he got to manor but he decided to worry about that another time. Right now, all he could do was study the sight of the city and try not to think too hard about his situation.

\---

             “Thank you, sir,” Cisco said, waving goodbye. He stood at the gates of the manor. Everything, even the plants surrounding the building, seemed fancy. The path to the gates was well kept and the guards in front of them stood straight, faces devoid of expression. They wore tight, black uniforms and at their sides, they held sleek silver swords. They eyed Cisco carefully when he walked towards them. Though his heart was beating loudly in his ears, Cisco kept a steady voice as he spoke.

             “Hello, I’m here for the offer of a servant for the Marquess.”

             He didn’t know what else to do. The end goal was in the manor so might as well ask the guards to let him in. Without a word, the man on Cisco’s right walked up and lifted Cisco’s arms up. He began patting him down as the other guard grabbed Cisco’s bag. Though his instinct was to pull away, Cisco remained still, waiting patiently.

             With a satisfied nod, the guard returned his bag and opened the gate. One of them stuck to Cisco’s side as he made his way to the front doors of the manor. Somehow, the building was even more breathtaking this close up. The elaborately placed details were eye-catching and Cisco found it difficult to tear his eyes away for long enough to step inside.

             Though he expected the inside to be even more extravagant than the outside of the manor, Cisco was still blown away. Gold seemed to line every corner and wall in the shape of flowers and birds. The walls were decorated with beautiful paintings of landscapes that Cisco found familiar and decorative pieces such as crossed swords and banners. The guard didn’t wait for Cisco to admire everything slack-jawed as he continued forward through the room. Cisco followed blindly up a staircase and through a hallway, barely blinking as he tried to take everything in. Though he doubted he would be living in something as beautiful as this, he wouldn’t have minded wandering these halls all day.

             “Through here,” the guard finally spoke, “sit with the others and don’t leave the room.”

             Cisco had a feeling there were more guards that just the two at the gate and that they wouldn’t have let him leave the room even if he wanted to, but he kept that to himself. As the guard opened the sleek, large doors, Cisco stepped in. The room felt more private than what he had seen before as large portions of the walls were lined with bookshelves filled to the brim. It was a great empty space with no furniture and only a few banner and lamps here and there. Lights illuminated the white tiled floors and the people who paced over them.

             A handful of people looked up at Cisco with tired eyes as he walked to join them. They were a diverse bunch with both men and women of seemingly different backgrounds. Cisco thought he was early but by the look that some of them gave him, they might have been here all day. No one smiled or said hello so Cisco kept his mouth shut as well and placed his bag down on the floor, sitting on top of it. He didn’t want to fake friendliness with people who weren’t going to reciprocate it.

             “No, I don’t care,” an annoyed voice came from outside the doors, “it doesn’t matter, just send others away.”

             The doors flung open and Cisco turned. A man in dark clothing strode in. He wore a white dress shirt whose collar stuck out from beneath a black, tight-fitting jacket. Tight black pants covered his long legs, the ends of which were tucked into dark, polished boots. A scowl remained on his face as he crossed his arms, studying the people within the room. No one spoke and no one moved. Only after a moment did Cisco realize he was the only one sitting down. Everyone else had stood up straight, arms at their sides and their head bowing. When he looked back at the man in front of them, he found the stranger staring. Cisco fumbled off his bag and copied the others.

             “Line up,” the man (who Cisco finally realized was the Marquess) instructed, “and for the love of god stop bowing.”

             A shuffle of clothing and the squeak of shoes followed as everyone obeyed. Cisco found that there was a strange vibe in the air—one that he could only describe as ‘controlled panic.’ Though he understood that impressing the Marquess was something everyone was hoping to do, Cisco didn’t feel he was on the same level of frantic as everyone else, whether that be to his advantage or not.

             “Well then,” the Marquess said, affluence and power oozing from his raspy voice, “as you all know I am— well, my daughter is seeking a servant for me.“ He walked closer to the line, studying them all up and down. Cisco felt his heartbeat pick up as the Marquess neared him. He gulped as their eyes met.

             “My manor has a rat,” he essentially growled the word, “someone within my home is here to learn about my plans and report them to an opposing country. One of you will serve to sniff this rodent out and report back to me.”

             Cisco knew that there was tension between neighbouring countries and their own but didn’t know much more than that. He barely even knew what exactly the role of the Marquess was. Something with the military and the borders. Important stuff, most likely.

             “My daughter refused the idea of just firing all of my staff so here you all are,” the boredom and indifference in his voice irked Cisco, “there are more here than I expected so…”

             He paused, eyes flickering between all of them. Cisco looked around to see people shift uncomfortably under the Marquess’ gaze. When his eyes finally turned to Cisco, he made sure to stare right back. When it came to intimidation, Cisco knew how to hide any reaction.

             “I’m going to ask three questions,” the Marquess spoke slowly, “if you answer incorrectly or say something I’m not fond of, you leave. Understand?”

             No one spoke and rather just stiffly nodded.

             “Firstly, what are your thoughts on me?”

 _Oof,_ Cisco thought. That was a heavy question. Mere moments after Cisco had got to Central City, someone was saying the Marquess was an asshole, so it would have been suspicious if someone just mindlessly gushed about him. He walked to the end of the line, opposite of where Cisco was standing and gestured lazily to the first person, a large man with ginger hair and a patchy red beard.

             “I think you’re amazing and what you have done for this country is unparalleled. You—uh—you are a king amongst men and I respect you very much.” _Yeah…gushing._

             Without a word, the Marquess moved along the line. It was more of the same, ‘you’re amazing, you’re a blessing, you’re a miracle, please take my firstborn.’ Cisco knew that they all wanted the job but no way in hell was he going to pretend to be head-over-heels for someone he didn’t even recognize a few minutes ago. If that gets him kicked out, so be it. He’ll find other ways to make money.

             “And you?” The Marquess stood and gestured indolently to Cisco. Being this close to him, Cisco noticed how blue the man’s eyes were.

             “Uh,” _nice, smooth Ramon,_ “honestly, your honour,” _is that what he’s called?_ “I don’t really know anything about you. So please do not take these words with any opinion of my own; from what I have heard during the few hours I’ve been here, you are not well-liked. I can tell that you are very intelligent—of course since you have this job—and from what you have said to us, I know that your daughter may be even more intelligent than you.” Suppressed gasps and giggles came from the rest of the crowd and Cisco winced. Maybe he pushed it a little too far. It was meant to be an observation, not an insult, but he might have messed that one up.

             “Well,” the man spoke, portraying nothing in his voice, “you are right. My daughter is much smarter than I.”

             Cisco smiled sheepishly, not knowing what else to do. So, Marquess Harrison Wells was somewhat of an asshole but had a soft spot for his daughter and was privy to the knowledge that people thought he was an asshole. Cisco mentally thanked himself for his ability to read people.

             “All of you can leave, thank you,” the Marquess said abruptly, garnering silence and then a flurry of voices. Some asked why and others desperately asked for another chance. With a startlingly cold glare from the Marquess, everyone shut their mouths, walking slowly out the door. Though quite dazed himself, Cisco waited till the line scattered and squeezed past them to pick up his bag, turning to leave. He was the last one in the room as he secured the strap of the bag on his shoulder and made sure all his money was still in his pocket.

             A firm grasp on his shoulder caused Cisco to freeze. The Marquess let go and walked in front of the younger man.

             “You can stay,” his voice was gruff, indifference present; “I still have two more questions.”

             “Uh,” Cisco straightened, unsure of what to do, “of course.”

             “Secondly, why do you want to be my servant?”

             “My family needs the money,” Cisco answer simply.

             “Thirdly, what are your strengths and weaknesses?”

             Cisco looked down, trying to formulate an answer. He’d never liked bragging about himself. Weaknesses came easily but strengths were harder.

             “Well, my weaknesses are that I am too stubborn, I’m not good at much except wasting time building things, and my strengths are…I’m a hard worker, I can pick things up pretty quickly, and I can fix things.” Cisco knew he sounded stiff and when the older man studied him, he felt the urge to squirm.

             “Why do you say ‘wasting time’ building things?” The Marquess asked. Cisco merely blinked. His parents had always said he was wasting time and effort whenever he tinkered around with a new project. For all his life he could have been doing something more important, more valuable, than making one of his ‘toys.’

             “I-I don’t know, I suppose I could always be doing something more significant than building something for fun,” Cisco responded. “Also that’s three questions.”

             “You’re my servant. I can ask all the questions I please.”

             Cisco looked surprised. _Looks like I got the job_.

             “Thank you, uh, Marquess.”

             The older man smiled ever so briefly. So briefly that Cisco didn’t know whether or not he imagined it.

             “Call me Harrison,” he said, “and what is your name?”

             “Cisco. Francisco Ramon.”


	3. Cufflinks

             “Wait,” Cisco finally spoke, taking in everything Harrison had said, “I actually get to _live_ in here?”

             They stood in a room smaller than all the others Cisco had passed in the hallways but it was quite big compared to his room back home. The Marquess had quickly explained all his duties (which was quite a long list) and expected Cisco to remember all of them. The younger man had broken it down into cleaning the Marquess’ room, spying, and running whatever errands he required. Though Harrison hadn’t specifically stated to never offer help, Cisco knew he wasn’t the type of person that worked too well with others. The room that Cisco was going to sleep in looked richer than anything he had lived in before. The walls were lined with gold and minimalistic, navy blue wallpaper that seemed to exude regality. The queen-size bed was made neatly with fluffy white blankets and primped pillows. It looked so soft it seemed almost uncomfortable. The rest of the room was bare save for the drawers beside the bed, a large mirror embedded in the wall, and a closet across from it.

             “Were you planning on making a daily trek from your home to mine?” The Marquess teased.

             "No, uh, your honour,” Cisco turned to him, “maybe just something separate from the manor itself.”

             “That would be a hassle,” Harrison said, “anyways; your main task is to find the person spying on me and report back. No one other than guards and I know of your true intentions so do _not_ go around babbling about it. Understand?”

             Cisco nodded. _So this is really happening._ It still felt like he was on the journey from his home to Central City and that the role wasn’t officially his. The looming thought that he’d soon be overwhelmed with tasks and responsibilities nagged at his mind. Cisco could complete chores, he’d done just that all his life, but how he was to carry out his tasks was a complete mystery here. He knew how to tend to crops, how to feed the animals, how to clean the stables, and how to sell goods. What he didn’t know was how he was to speak to others of the Marquess’ status. He didn’t know how to speak or act to fit in around here. Since the moment he’d got to Central City, Cisco’s clothes and country accent made him stand out.

             “Is there anything I can help with right now?” Cisco asked.

             “Right now,” the Marquess nodded towards the drawer, “change into the clothes given and familiarize yourself with the manor. You’d be no good to me if getting lost was a daily occurrence.”

             As he turned and began to leave the room, the Marquess stopped at the door. Glancing back, his blue gaze caught Cisco’s.

             “Stop with this ‘your honour’ nonsense,” a lull of amusement present in his voice, “I said to call me Harrison.”

             “Of course…Harrison,”

             “See you soon, Ramon.”

             With that, the man left, the aura of power still looming behind. Throwing his bag onto the bed, Cisco pulled the drawer open, groaning when he saw the contents. The clothes were essentially just toned down and less layered versions of the guards’ outfits. A suit was something Cisco had expected but had hoped against. It was a sleek fit with a crisp white shirt and various other black items. Cisco pulled them out and laid them onto the bed. A dark blazer that seemed much too tight for Cisco’s liking was paired with black tight-fitting pants and a simple tie. A waistcoat (Cisco guessed) was also among the items. Deciding wallowing wasn’t going to help much, Cisco began stripping down.

             Though they looked too small, the clothes fit quite well. They were far tighter than the work clothes Cisco was used to but he was still comfortable. He’d got on the shirt, blazer, pants, and waistcoat, but was lost at the tie. Cisco had never had to tie a tie in his life. He’d seen Dante do it a few times for particularly important performances but other than that, it was a mystery. More confusion ensued as Cisco realized there weren’t any sleek new dress shoes along with the rest of the clothes. Shrugging, he put back on his dark boots.

             When he looked in the mirror, Cisco almost didn’t recognize himself. He looked ridiculously fancy. Only when he squinted did he notice the suit wasn’t actually black but rather a very dark blue. The suit felt out of place with his long hair and work boots. He felt ridiculous. Hoping he’d gain more confidence if he just kept it on long enough, Cisco decided to wander the rest the halls of the manor, unworn tie in hand.

             Since he wasn’t being ushered back and forth from one location to another, Cisco took his time to study the details of the manor. Though paintings of rich looking people lined the walls and the rooms of the building were impeccably decorated, Cisco didn’t feel like he was at any risk of knocking anything over. Everything was strategically positioned and placed so that it looked nice but wasn’t in the way.

             After what he guessed was a half an hour, the rooms began to look so similar that Cisco felt he was walking in circles. He was without a doubt lost. Hoping he’d run into another servant or maybe a maid, Cisco continued to wander.

             “Have I seen this one…?” Cisco narrowed his eyes, studying a painting. All these old white people looked the same; angry and rich. He dropped his head in defeat.

             A familiar voice that seemed to be perpetually tinged with a patronizing tone grew louder from down the hall.

             “Yes, I’ve dealt with that. All you need to do is make sure the papers get to my desk before noon, not a minute before the sun sets! I would much rather be sleeping than signing sheets of papers all night, wouldn’t you?”

             Cisco silently fumbled in one spot. He looked around, hoping a magical door had appeared that he could hide in till the Marquess passed.

             “Ramon?” _No luck._ Cisco turned around quickly, standing up straight as a rod and hiding the tie behind his back.

             “Yes, your hon—uh, Harrison,” Cisco stuttered, not knowing exactly why he was nervous since he was doing what was asked of him; _familiarizing,_ “do you need help?”

             “It seems you’re the one in need of aid, Ramon,” Harrison replied, “Where’s your tie?”

 _Shit_. He knew not being able to tie a tie wasn’t a big deal but it still made Cisco feel like he wasn’t supposed to be here. He brought his hand up to tuck locks of hair behind his ear, bringing the dangling fabric into view.

             “I don’t know how to tie it,” Cisco said sheepishly. The Marquess eyed him up and down, his gaze lingering at Cisco’s shoes before shooting back up. He gestured for the tie. Cisco stood dumbfounded before handing it over.

             “Unfasten your waistcoat and jacket,” Harrison said, stepping forward, the black tie in both hands. Cisco obeyed, fumbling with the (unnecessary) buttons for a moment he felt was too long. Without warning, the Marquess wrapped the piece of fabric around Cisco’s neck. Cisco didn’t know where to look as the long fingers of the other man expertly worked on the tie. They were quite close and Cisco felt his body tense up at the realization. With a final pull and pat, Harrison glanced up, making eye contact with the younger man. Gracefully stepping back, he let his arms drop to his sides.

             “Did you pick that up?” The teasing tone was something Cisco was getting used to.

             “What? Oh, no, I’m sorry I didn’t,” Cisco felt strangely self-conscious.

             “Don’t worry,” Harrison gestured, “I’ll send someone over.” He glanced down. “With some new shoes as well.” Cisco nodded stiffly.

             “Another thing,” the older man’s eyes narrowed as he studied Cisco, “are you planning on keeping that hair?”

             Cisco’s eyes shot up. It hadn’t even occurred to him that a haircut was something in his future. Though he did feel strange at the idea of having long hair while spending his time in the Marquess’ manor, Cisco would be damned if he had to cut it.

             “Yes,” he spoke quickly, “I-I do intend to keep it.” A glint of something Cisco didn’t recognize flashed in Harrison’s eyes.

             “Good,” his low voice was attention-grabbing, “I’m partial to it as well.”

             As if that was his goodbye, the older man turned and strode away. Cisco stood there, a little dazed and very confused. When he snapped out of it, Cisco thought about calling out and asking which way his room was but decided to just wander around till he found it. He quickly buttoned up his waistcoat and jacket.

             It took him much longer to find his way back that it took him to get lost. Opening the third room that he hoped was his, Cisco saw his brown bag on the bed and felt a sense of joy and relief as he hurried inside. Flopping down on the bed, Cisco cringed as he realized he’d most likely creased the suit. Glancing around, he found a small, expensive looking clock on the wall above the door. It was 7:00 PM and Cisco wondered when he was supposed to change back into his clothes and go to sleep. Did he have a set bedtime? _Probably._ He wondered if he got his own night clothes as well.

             A knock on the door cause Cisco to sit up, brushing down his suit and hoping he still looked presentable. His hair must’ve been a mess.

             “Hello,” a meek voice came from outside, “I’ve been instructed by the Marquess to bring your shoes and, uh, teach how to tie a tie.”

             “Yes, please come in,” Cisco replied.

             The brunette girl smiled at him as she pushed the door shut behind her. She wore a modest blue and grey dress that fell to her ankles. With one hand, she held a few books tightly against her chest and in the other was a pair of polished dress shoes. She was very pretty and Cisco knew from her eyes and mannerisms that she was just as smart.

             “I’m Cisco Ramon,” he introduced, “and you are?”

             “I’m Caitlin,” her voice was friendly, “Caitlin Snow. I’m a teacher.” She held out the shoes and Cisco took them gently.

             “A teacher? Do you work in the manor?”

             “Well, I don’t live here but I come in a few days a week to teach Lady Jesse.”

             Cisco looked on for a further explanation of who that is. When she didn’t continue, Cisco realized this _Lady Jesse_ was someone he should probably know.

             “Uh, this may sound stupid,” he said sheepishly, “who is Lady Jesse exactly?” As he expected, Caitlin’s brows rose in surprise.

             “She’s Marquess Harrison’s daughter. I must say, I’m surprised his servant doesn’t know he has a daughter.”

             "Yes,” Cisco shook his head, “I’m from the country. I have no inkling as to what goes on in this city.”

             “Well, I can help with that,” Caitlin said, her voice much more inviting than that of Harrison’s, “but first you need to learn how to tie a tie.”

             She moved the books away from her chest pulled out a tie hidden between them. Placing the books aside, she gestured for Cisco to untie his as she wrapped her own around her neck. Cisco mirrored her and the familiar sensation sparked the recollection of Harrison.

             “Follow along,” she said. Cisco smiled as she knowledgeably described each step. _‘Go over, under, in front and through, repeat the last step, then through the new loop, and pull. See, easy.’_

             After a few more tries, Cisco understood the process. She asked him to do it by himself and he nailed it.

             “That was quick,” Caitlin said, “make sure you don’t forget, though.”

             “I’ll be wearing it every day so I doubt I will,” Cisco replied, tugging at his tie, “thank you, ma’am.”

             Cisco shut his mouth when Caitlin laughed. _Did I say something funny?_ He could never tell whether or not what he said was improper.

             “ _Ma’am;_ ” Caitlin repeated, “Is that your country hospitality?” Cisco grinned back.

             “Why yes, ma’am,” Cisco joked, deepening his accent, “out in the ol’ country, we farm boys speak like gentlemen.”

             “Oh my,” Caitlin followed his lead, changing her voice to sound overly posh, “here in the city, the ladies are all primped and proper.”

             They both broke into laughter. Cisco felt relaxed for the first time since he’d been there. As their chuckles tapered off, Caitlin checked the silver watch on her wrist, her face dropping immediately.

             “You should put your shoes on, Cisco,” her voice was urgent, “it’s almost dinner time. The Marquess must require your assistance. It would do no good to not show up on your first day.” As he kicked off his boots and hopped around, trying to get the dress shoes on, Cisco spoke.

             “Why would he need me for dinner? Does he have special dinner clothes he needs picked out?” It was a joke but Cisco wouldn’t put it past royalty.

             “It doesn’t matter _what_ he needs, Cisco,” Caitlin gathered her books and tucked the tie into the belt that cinched the dress around her waist, “it is proper to be at his side just in case. If he did require something, you’ll be there to help.”

             “Also,” she spoke before Cisco could respond, “Lady Jesse may want to meet you.”

             At this revelation, Cisco hurriedly fixed his hair—or tried his best to make it look neater than it was. He tucked one side behind his ear and left the other to frame his face. The shoes tapped satisfactorily when Cisco walked. They fit perfectly and for the first time, Cisco wondered how all the clothes were the right sizes when he hadn’t told anyone what his size was. Shaking his head, he continued to follow Caitlin.

             “Where are we going?” Cisco asked.

             “I’m going to Lady Jesse’s room,” Caitlin replied, “the Marquess’ room is near hers.”

             With a quick left turn, the hallways changed in appearance quite drastically. These ones were taller and, though with the same colour scheme of dark navy and gold, were bare save for a large portrait on the wall at the end of the hallway. It hung above a gothic window that showed the vague outlines of trees and the dark sky. The doors here were bigger than the rest that Cisco had seen in the manor. The wood itself seemed richer.

             As they neared the portrait, Cisco noticed it was a painting of a family. A tall, blonde woman dressed in a dark, beautiful dress stood behind a young girl wearing a white ruffled shirt and skirt. Both were smiling but what was really surprising was the Marquess, who stood beside the woman, was smiling as well. He looked younger—Cisco guessed by about a decade or so. He looked older now, of course, but just as handsome, if not more.

             Caitlin came to a stop in front of a room near the middle of the hallway. Cisco halted as well.

             “The Marquess’ room is at the very end on the right,” she pointed, “I’ll see you at dinner.”

             Cisco said goodbye and walked briskly to the end of the hallway. He stood in front of the door and knocked. At first, there was silence but Cisco thought he heard some shuffling and mumbles from inside. The door opened suddenly and Cisco refrained from jumping back.

             “What?” Harrison asked, his voice gruff. He had removed his suit jacket and unfastened his waistcoat. His hair was messy and his tie was loosened.

             “I-I’ve been informed that I’m supposed to—uh—help you with…something before dinner,” Cisco said, trying not to think about how the fluffed hair suited the older man. Harrison sighed, rubbing his face.

             “Yes,” he sounded tired, “come in. I’ll need to get dressed.”

             The room was surprisingly disorganized; books and piles of paper lay everywhere. Despite the mess, the room was still breath-taking. A large bed sat at the wall opposite from the doorway with a small bedside table. It was very spacious and on the wall right of Cisco, a large map replaced the wallpaper. It was littered with pins and markings connected with strings and drawn lines. A large chandelier hung from the high ceiling and Cisco felt an irrational fear of it falling. A large table made of mahogany wood sat in front of a grand window framed with sleek, red curtains. Though the view right now was illuminated by only moonlight, Cisco knew it was beautiful.

             The table looked much more used than the bed with papers nearly spilling off and other fancy looking trinkets. Cisco’s hand twitched with the urge to take them apart—to discover what they do. His inkling proved to be right as the Marquess sat down on the chair in front of the table with a groan. He leaned back and pulled his tie off with one hand, tossing it onto the table. Cisco looked at the map when he began to unbutton his shirt.

             “Do you know what that is?” Harrison’s voice broke the silence. Cisco looked back to see his waistcoat hanging off the chair and his shirt open till just below his pecs. It took Cisco a moment to realize he was talking about the map.

             “I don’t recognize it,” Cisco replied, “but I assume it’s our country and neighbouring ones.” Harrison nodded and stood up. “If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is it that you do?”

             “I know you said you didn’t know about me,” Harrison said, “but surely you know what a Marquess is.” Cisco shook his head.

             “I am responsible for guarding the border areas of our country,” the older man explained, “I control where the ranks of the country are positioned and what they do. King West trusts me enough that he relies on my expertise without much quarrelling.”

             “The king,” though Cisco didn’t know much of royalty, he definitely knew of the king, “what kind of man is he?”

             “What have you heard of him?” Harrison asked, walking nearer.

             “I’ve heard he’s powerful and quite forth,” Cisco answered, “and that despite his passion and confidence, he’s quite intelligent.”

             “You have heard correctly,” the older man turned towards the map, “but he can be a right pain-in-the-ass sometimes.” His surprise must have shown as Harrison glanced back and smirked at Cisco’s expression.

             “Anyways,” Harrison turned and stalked towards doors in the wall that Cisco hadn’t noticed, “I have twenty-five minutes to get ready.” He opened the doors and pulled out a suit, laying it on the bed. “Since you don’t know how to tie a tie, I’m not sure you’ll be of much help.”

             “You’re in luck,” Cisco said, “I just learned.”

             “Feel free to show, then,” Harrison joked, “come here.”

             Clearing his throat, Cisco walked over, hoping the disquiet he felt wasn’t present in his manners. Coming to a halt in front of the bed, Cisco merely stared when Harrison lifted his arms to his side.

             “Are you going to act like a servant or just continue to ogle?”

             Cisco jumped to, bringing reluctant hands to the buttons of the shirt. He fumbled at first but managed to undo them fairly quickly. Gently nudging the shirt off the shoulders of the other man, Cisco pulled the fabric down as Harrison changed position to accommodate it. The Marquess was surprisingly fit but Cisco knew it wasn’t a body of someone who did strenuous work all day as he had on the farm since it was far too lean. It was more like a runner’s. He looked at the ground, trying not to stare at the other’s bare skin. Folding the shirt over his arm, Cisco carried it to the bed. He exhaled in relief when he turned to see Harrison taking off his own shoes and pants. Turning to the change of clothes on the bed, Cisco appreciated the beauty of the black fabric before picking up the pants and handing them over. He then picked up the slightly blue-tinted shirt.

             After Harrison had put on the pants (and Cisco had definitely not taken a peek or two), Cisco helped with the shirt. He had to lean in so that he could drape the shirt over the back of the other man, allowing Harrison to slip his arms into the sleeves. Buttoning the shirt up was a little harder but Cisco found the rhythm soon enough. As his fingers brushed against Harrison’s chest, Cisco felt his heart beat a little faster. Grabbing the tie, Cisco showed off his newly learned skill, not being able to suppress a smile as Harrison gave an impressed look. The rest of the clothes were easier to get on and Cisco asked if he was going to wear the same shoes again.

             “I don’t see why not,” Harrison replied, moving to sit on the bed. Cisco picked them up and knelt in front of the taller man. The hard floor was uncomfortable but Cisco was able to get the shoes on. Glancing up, Cisco felt himself tense when his gaze was returned. From his position, the Marquess seemed even more powerful. Cisco quickly stood up and tried not to notice Harrison following his movements.

             “Is that it?” Cisco asked.

             “Almost,” Harrison said, getting up and walking towards the dresser underneath the large map. He opened the top drawer and pulled out a wooden box. Cisco followed him and leaned forward to see the contents. Various cufflinks of different colours, shapes, and jewels were pinned into a cushion within the box. Harrison turned his head to look at Cisco.

             “You pick one,” his voice had a lilt of something Cisco couldn’t pick out.

             They all looked fancy and dignified, some larger than others. Cisco wondered if there was even a wrong choice. _Maybe this is a test._ A pair stood out from the rest.

             “These ones,” Cisco picked out two small deep blue ones. They were lined with silver and within the centre of the round pins was an intricate silver rose. The blue seemed to shift lighter and darker as Cisco studied it.

             “Why those?” Harrison asked, placing the box back.

             “They go well with the shirt,” Cisco said demurely, “and your eyes.”

             A strange expression, one of both surprise and bitter sadness, flashed over the Marquess’ face. Like most of his emotions, he let it show only for a moment before replacing it with a stern frown. Harrison stuck out his hands and gestured towards the cufflinks.

             “Uh,” Cisco glanced down, “alright. Don’t get mad if I wreck the suit, though.”

             Sticking his tongue out, Cisco carefully pinned one cufflink on, brows furrowed in concentration the entire time. He looked over his work and did the same on the other arm. With a satisfied smile, Cisco looked back up.

             “Not bad, Ramon,” Harrison fidgeted with the cuffs. Cisco gave a small nod.

             “I still don’t get why you couldn’t do all this by yourself,” he said. Harrison’s eyes narrowed.

             “I don’t _get_ where in your job description you’re required to say unnecessary things,” the Marquess replied, his voice sharp. Cisco shut his mouth, turning his attention to the map. _Asshole,_ he thought. He heard the older man sigh and the shuffle of the suit. The Marquess’ hand came into view as he dragged his fingers over the map.

             “Where are you from, Ramon?” His voice was softer. Cisco took a quick glance at the man before studying the map closer, looking for the name of his little town. Finding the sea he crossed, Cisco followed his path back; _Mirfield._

             “Here,” Ramon brought his fingers up, “this is my home.” A sting of homesickness shot through Cisco. He buried the feeling quickly. Only a moment after, his breath caught as he watched Harrison move his fingers closer to his own. They were close enough that Cisco’s mind was able to imagine the feeling of the other man’s hand.

             “I’ve never been to those parts,” Harrison said, “I’m sure you’ll be able to tell me all about it when I ask.” He brought down his hand, fingertips just barely brushing Cisco’s. He turned and walked towards the door, gesturing for Cisco to follow.

             “You’ll sit with us for dinner tonight,’” Harrison explained as Cisco jogged to catch up, “Jesse wants to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM LOVE THEM also next chapter is dinner with the Wells'


	4. Plumeria

             For some reason, Cisco was nervous to meet Lady Jesse. As he followed Harrison through the halls from his quarters to the dining room. Cisco wondered if he was anxious about approval from the young lady—approval of being a fit servant for her father. He shook his head. He hadn’t even made his mind up at whether or not he felt satisfied with his new job.

             “I know you haven’t learned how to behave yet,” Harrison said as Cisco struggled to keep up with his long strides, “so I would advise you keep your mouth shut.”

             That tug of irritation sparked once again in Cisco’s gut. He hadn’t expected Harrison to be amiable, even before he got to Central City, but the man sure was testing Cisco’s patience. Despite his feelings, he knew not to talk back. Harrison was right; Cisco didn’t know how to act and what was deemed respectful and disrespectful in the manor. Nonetheless, it took a great will for Cisco not to snap back with a witty comment.

             “Of course,” Cisco tried to sound indifferent. He staggered a little as Harry made a sharp right. Cisco noticed the number of paintings on the walls was lessening as they neared a room. The white stately double doors were pushed open to reveal a large room much like the first Cisco had seen when he entered the manor. A large chandelier, even bigger than the one in the Marquess’ room, was the centrepiece of the area. Underneath it was a large dining table with many more seats than Cisco thought necessary before he remembered the nature of Harrison’s job. Somehow, a person so snappy had a very social life.

             There was no one in the room except for Cisco and the Marquess. As Cisco stood close to the doorway admiring the beauty of the surrounding fixtures, Harrison wordlessly stalked over, taking a seat in a pricey-looking chair at the end of the table. When Cisco stood still, not knowing what to do, Harrison scowled over his shoulder, gesturing once to come over.

             Silently, Cisco chose a seat on the chair nearest to the Marquess. He pulled the chair out slowly, both in fear of scratching the pearly tiled floors and to give Harrison a chance to stop him. The Marquess said nothing and rather took to studying the twinkling crystals of the chandelier. Cisco followed his gaze and an expression of awe showed on his face. It looked immense both in beauty and size when you sat right underneath it. Shuddering as the image of it falling came to mind, Cisco looked back down at the tablecloth.

             “You look unsettled,” Harrison commented, “it’s unbecoming.”

             Cisco mouth opened to refute whatever that meant but he shut it immediately, Harrison’s words echoing in his head. _You’re unbecoming_ , Cisco grumbled in mind, his eyes unconsciously falling to the other man’s collar. Harrison tilted his head down to catch Cisco’s gaze and Cisco felt a strange coyness bubble up. Thankfully, chatter from the doorway gave him an excuse to break eye contact.

             Two women walked into the room and Cisco smiled as he saw Caitlin. She was wearing the same thing as before and the girl beside her, who Cisco assumed was Lady Jesse, wore a loose white top with a ruffled collar and sleeves that tightened at the wrist. She had a skirt similar to that of Caitlin’s but in a navy blue. Her wavy short hair fell just above her shoulders and Cisco realized that his own hair was longer. A kind smile was present on her face through the entirety of her conversation. She nodded in greeting at Cisco as she sat opposite him at the table and Cisco flashed a polite smile in return. Caitlin sat beside her.  

             “You must be my father’s new servant,” her friendly voice was so different from Harrison’s own sharp and gravel tone that Cisco questioned whether she was actually his daughter, “how has he been treating you?”

             “Uh, fine—he’s been fair,” Cisco replied, “it’s an honour to meet you.’

             “Ah,” Amusement similar to that of her father’s dripped as she spoke, “that’s strange since Caitlin told me you learned of my existence only an hour ago.”

             It was just teasing but Cisco could feel his face getting red. Looking over at Caitlin, Cisco pouted as she hid a smile.

             “That is true, ma’am,” Cisco said shyly, “I’m not familiar with what goes on in the manor, or this city for that matter.”

             “Where are you from?” Cisco smiled at her genuine curiosity.

             “Mirfield. It’s a small town on the land over the sea.”

             “Oh my,” she said, “the carriage ride here must have been exhausting.”

             “No, ma’am, I came by boat. It’s much faster than following the small road connecting the two lands.”

             When Jesse opened her mouth to speak, Harrison interrupted.

             “The food should be here by now,” he said, annoyed, “what’s taking so long?”

             “Dad, it won’t kill you to wait another minute. Plus, this gives us more time to learn about…” She gestured at Cisco, prompting a name.

             “Cisco,” he replied. She raised an eyebrow and motioned to continue. “Cisco Ramon.”

             “You’ll _get to know him_ soon enough,” Harrison said, “There’s no need for interrogation at the dinner table, Jesse.”

             “It’s not _interrogation,_ dad,” Jesse raised her voice, “people do this whole ‘talking’ think when they meet someone new. You’ve clearly never heard of it.”

             Cisco looked over to Caitlin uncomfortably and she rolled her eyes in return. _Looks like she’s used to this._ Before Harrison could begin complaining, a flurry of hurried footsteps erupted through the doorway. People dressed in black and white carried plates of food and drinks. Cisco only recognized the chicken which was cut up into pretty looking pieces. Staring on in confusion at the strange looking dishes as they were placed at the centre of the table, Cisco suddenly missed his mother’s cooking. All these fanciful portions seemed bland compared to it. Harry glowered at one of the men as he placed an empty white plate in front of him. Cisco saw the servant gulp and make off before he got yelled at. As the clinking of the dishes came to a stop, a handsome blonde stood a few feet away from the table. He cleared his throat and began speaking.

             “The main dish today is the beef madrilène with gold leaf spa—“

             “Yes, yes, thank you,” Harrison interrupted, gesturing for him to shoo away, “it looks great.”

             The man looked at Cisco, mouth still open, before he bowed and slipped away. Jesse eyed the food strategically, trying to find what she wanted first. Caitlin had already begun placing bits and pieces of the dishes on her own plate. Cisco just sat there, face turned to his empty plate while he studied the others at the table. Harrison had one thing on his plate, a piece of juicy looking steak and mashed potatoes at the side. Cisco thought the piece was upsettingly small. As they began to eat, Cisco was the only one with nothing in front of him. At home, he would probably be having rice and chicken or some other cheap but _heavenly_ meal.

             “Cisco,” Jesse’s voice was muffled as she stuffed a piece of…something into her mouth, “are you not hungry?” Cisco tried not to groan when he felt Harrison’s attention fall to him.

             “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I don’t really know what any of this is.”

             “Come on,” she replied, “just try something. You might like it.”

             Cisco nodded as he studied each dish carefully. A memory of Dante looking up from his book and yelling at him popped up in Cisco’s head. _Guess what, Cisco; rich people in the city eat pigeon!_ He resisted the urge to make a face.

             “Ramon,” Harrison’s raspy voice broke his thoughts, “give me your plate.”

             Cisco merely blinked at the man before he fumbled to hand the plate over. He watched in interest as Harrison methodically picked certain dishes. Cisco guessed at what some of the meats were and hoped they were anything other than pigeon. The younger man’s eyes fell to Harrison’s lips as he saw the tip of his pink tongue peek through his lips. The concentration in his face as he placed the last spoon down and gave a satisfactory nod was strangely endearing.

             “Here,” he said, stretching his arm out to hand back the plate, “you don’t have to eat all of it.”

             Cisco nearly scoffed at that. It would be a sin to leave before your plate was empty. Thanking him, Cisco grabbed his meal back. Picking up a fork and knife, Cisco dug in. At the first taste, he realized how hungry he was. The food was pretty good—of course, not as good as his mother’s but still quite tasty. The meat was a lot more flavourful than Cisco was expecting and everything paired pretty well. His thoughts must have shown on his face as Harrison smirked at the younger man.

             Harrison finished first, which was surprising considering he went for seconds. Jesse finished afterwards and Cisco and Caitlin ate their last bite at the same time. As the Marquess placed the fork on his plate with a clink, Jesse’s eyes lit up.

             “Dad, you’re wearing mom’s cufflinks,” she sounded excited, “the ones she always said brought out your eyes.”

             Cisco noticed Harrison tense up and flash the briefest of glances towards him. The younger man felt stupid at not even noticing Harrison’s wife hadn’t joined them. Cisco didn’t know what he felt when he remembered the reason he had picked them out was because of the older man’s eyes as well. _Ah,_ Cisco thought. That explained Harrison’s reaction to his choice.

             “Yes,” Harrison said stiffly, “Ramon chose them for me.”

             “Nice eye,” Jesse winked at him. She whispered the last part, “That must have gotten you into his good graces.”

             “Alright,” Harrison said, suddenly getting up from the table, “I’ve got work to do. Ramon, come with me.”

             Cisco dropped the utensils he was playing with and gave a small bow to Jesse and Caitlin before jogging to catch up.

 

             ---

            

             “Don’t touch anything,” Harrison warned without turning around. Cisco’s hand hovered over an object that looked unfinished. Intricate small gears and metal pieces lay overtop of each other and Cisco hid a groan of complaint as he pulled his hand back, making a fist to avoid disobeying Harrison’s wishes. Cisco didn’t know what he was called for as he rocked back and forth on his feet, studying the room. With a sharp inhale of boredom, Cisco gently tapped on the dresser below the map. His feet ached from the hard floors and drowsiness pulled on his eyelids. It was just past ten o’clock but Cisco still felt tired. He’d had a long day.

             “Can you stop that,” Harry spat, turning around from his papers, “it’s extremely distracting.” Cisco realized the tapping had gotten louder. Apologizing, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his soft pants.

             At this point, Cisco was so bored that he had resorted to making faces at the back of Harrison’s head. It felt a little freeing after a day of taking orders and keeping _proper_ conduct to just stick his tongue out at the older man. Being unable to stay still, Cisco decided to just disregard the consequences and silently nabbed the device he was eyeing earlier off the dresser. He held his breath and only let go of it when Harrison didn’t turn around.

             The perfect positioning and minute details of the gears weren’t like anything Cisco had seen before. The watches he had taken apart and put back together seemed like child’s play compared to this. Cisco wondered who made as he rotated it around in his hand.

             “What part of don’t touch do you have difficulty understanding, Ramon?”

             Cisco nearly dropped the device as he put it back. Clearing his throat, he averted his gaze.

             “Sorry,” Cisco said, “but what exactly am I supposed to be helping with?”

             When Harrison’s glare turned somehow even sharper, Cisco cursed internally. It was a valid question but questioning wasn’t one of the things he was being paid for. The older man sighed and Cisco looked up.

             “I’m nearly done here,” Harrison said, exhaustion evident in his voice, “and then I’ll need a bath.”

             “Of course,” Cisco still didn’t know where he came into this, “do you want me to run it.”

             “Yes,” the Marquess replied, placing the pen down, “and you’ll want a change of clothes. You may get wet during it.”

             _Huh,_ was the only thing Cisco’s brain could conjure up. _During it?_ During the running of the bath or…? No way was he actually going to bathe the other man. It was a mad thought but Cisco didn’t think he’d have to the dress Harrison before today either.

             “Pardon me,” Cisco was having a hard time coming up with a sentence, “what do you mean during it?” Harrison stared at him like his hair was standing straight up.

             “During my bath,” he spoke like he was talking to a child, “you might get wet. Since, you know, water tends to do that.”

             “So, I’m going to…bathe you?”

             “Christ, Ramon, if critical thinking was such a weak point, I wouldn’t have hired you. The bathroom is at the end of the hall.”

             With that, he turned around and began signing documents. Cisco was still having a difficult time wrapping his head around the fact he was going to _bathe_ the other man. Dressing him was one thing since he still had undergarments on and Cisco didn’t have to perform the awkward act of hitching Harrison’s pants up. It felt uncomfortable to be in the presence of the other man at that moment so Cisco turned and strode out into the hallway. He made his way to the bathroom and stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him as he flicked on the lights. In the silence, Cisco began immediately pacing. Thankfully, like everything else in this damn manor, the bathroom was big enough to accommodate his panic.

             _How do you bathe someone?_ Cisco asked himself. Wondering if he had to grab some clothes for the other man, Cisco looked around. A pair of loose pants and a dark shirt was already hanging on the hooks in the wall. Candles were placed beside the sink and he decided not to light them. Coming to a halt in front of the large mirror across the bathtub, if the sauna-like structure could be called that, Cisco took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He came up with various calming thoughts. The Marquess probably wanted him there to fetch whatever fancy soaps he needed. That was something he could deal with.

             With some new emotional strength, Cisco played with the knobs of the bathtub until water came out. Flinching as ice cold hit his hand, Cisco twisted the other knob, waiting for the water to warm up. When it was hot enough, Cisco fumbled around till he found a drain plug. Popping it in, he watched as the bath filled up. As the water rose and steam floated above it, Cisco’s thoughts ran a hundred miles an hour. The Marquess’ body flashed through his mind more often than Cisco wanted to admit. His firm chest, muscled arms, and long legs were the last thing Cisco imagined when he heard a click, the door opening behind him.

             Cisco’s breath hitched and he turned around. Harrison stood with one hand on the back of his neck, his face scrunched in discomfort. He was still wearing a suit, the blazer unbuttoned and waistcoat hanging loosely. Not knowing what to do with himself, Cisco just stood beside the bathtub, waiting for the other man to move.

             “That damn chair,” Harrison groaned, “might as well sit on the floor.”

             Looking at the water, Harrison raised a brow.

             “There’s a reason why all these expensive bottles are here, Ramon,” he didn’t sound upset and Cisco felt relief.

             “I’m not sure of their use, Marquess,” Cisco said, “and I thought that you may favour some over others.”

             “You’re right,” Harrison didn’t bother correcting Cisco on how he addressed him as he tugged on his tie to loosen it. The action made Cisco feel something he couldn’t exactly pin down. “The plumeria and vanilla scents, and just dump the rose-petal foam in.”

             Cisco felt both relief and self-consciousness as Harrison began to strip down. _At least I don’t have to do that part._ Cisco turned his attention to the clutter of bottles sitting on the sink. As he picked out Harrison’s favourites, Cisco realized how strange and somewhat amusing it was that someone like him had bath scents that he was partial to. He didn’t exactly know what quantity a “dump” of rose-petal foam was but Cisco blindly poured it in until the bath looked fluffy enough. He followed that with drops of each scent. The steam of the bath and the floral aroma was relaxing enough that Cisco almost closed his eyes. Placing the bottles back, Cisco froze as he heard the water slosh. Only after counting to ten did he turn around.

             The Marquess lay with his head tilted back and elbows resting on the edge of the bathtub. The creases of his face from perpetually frowning melted away as the warm water circulated around him. It was near to the edge and Cisco turned the water off. The sudden silence that followed was jarring. As he made his way to sit by the bathtub, Cisco felt himself exhale at the sight of Harrison baring his neck—his mouth slightly agape in satisfaction and eyes closed. The foam hid anything below the older man’s ribs but Cisco still couldn’t help and look.

             “The shampoo is with the other bottles,” Harrison said, opening his eyes and tilting his head to look at Cisco, “I’m assuming hair care is something you’re knowledgeable of?”

             Cisco nodded, tucking his hair behind his ear on instinct. He returned to the bath with the bottle in hands. Before he did anything, Cisco took of his blazer and waistcoat with a carelessness he’s sure Harrison didn’t appreciate. Only when he was rolling up his sleeves did Cisco notice the other man’s eyes on him. It was a look of interest and something else Cisco wasn’t able to pick out before the other man adjusted slightly to allow him better access. Cisco placed his blazer on the ground beside the tub and kneeled down onto it. He squirted a fair amount of shampoo into his hands, rubbing them together to spread it out.

             He had to lean forward a little to reach Harrison’s head. The man must have dipped his head under when Cisco wasn’t looking as his dark, slightly curly hair was already wet. Cisco’s touch was gentle at first, just barely massaging his head. As time went on, Cisco got the hang of the motions and worked his fingers a little deeper into the other man’s scalp. Harrison looked unwound and loose under Cisco’s hands. His eyes had fluttered closed and he’d sat up a little more, revealing more of his torso.

             Cisco adjusted his position slightly to get more comfortable and his nails grazed Harrison’s scalp. The man gave out a breathy gasp and Cisco stilled. Harrison’s eyes fluttered open and he turned to Cisco with a questioning expression.

             “Is something wrong,” he asked, “I don’t recall asking you to stop.”

             “Nothing,” Cisco said quickly as he continued to massage his head, “you just seem to be enjoying yourself.” For a very brief moment, the other man appeared flustered, if that was even possible.

             “You’re good at this,” Harrison spoke softly. Despite himself, Cisco laughed.

             “Sorry,” he regained composure, “that’s the first compliment I’ve gotten.”

             Harrison didn’t reply and Cisco turned back to the task at hand. To wash out the shampoo, Cisco eyed a small pail sitting beside the tub. Unplugging the drain, Cisco grabbed the pail and turned on the taps. Warm water filled the pail as Cisco reapplied the plug, letting the water fill the tub again. Trying not to notice that the water had cleared just enough that Cisco could make out the pale skin of Harrison’s legs, Cisco poured the water over his head. Repeating this and scrubbing the shampoo out, Cisco followed the trail of water down the other man’s chest. For the first time, Cisco noticed scars on the Marquess’ chest. They looked completely healed but the faint discolouration remained. Something about the flow of water over them was mesmerizing to Cisco. He couldn’t take his eyes away. A hand wrapped around his wrist, stopping him from pouring. Cisco caught the other man’s gaze.

             “You were missing my head, Ramon,” Harrison said, letting go, “hurry up and finish this. I’d like to get some sleep.” Cisco washed the last bit of shampoo out and without thinking, reached out to wipe some foam off the other man’s collarbone, his finger brushing over a particularly dark scar. Cisco stilled, fingers still on Harrison’s skin. He looked up and saw Harrison watching him with interest, eyes flicking between Cisco’s.

             “Whatever happened to you?” Cisco asked softly, fingers moving to another scar. He felt Harrison tense and pulled back.

             “I don’t need your pity,” the older man responded sharply. He couldn’t make eye contact. _Pity_ wasn’t what Cisco felt. It was…something he didn’t know but it definitely wasn’t pity.

             “I’m not offering it,” Cisco simply said. Harrison’s head snapped back and he studied Cisco, eyes roaming his entire face—as if he was a mystery that needed to be solved.

             “Go back to your chambers, Ramon,” the Marquess said, his voice soft, “I’ll finish up here.”

             Nodding, Cisco got up and picked his clothes off the floor. His blazer was wet and his waistcoat creased. As he guessed his way back to his room, Ramon tried to understand what was happening. Whatever he was feeling was risky. It seemed like he was playing a dangerous game. The thing that truly baffled him was that he couldn’t find it within himself to care.  

            


	5. Kiss Kiss Kiss

             As the weeks went on, Cisco got the hang of his duties and required no assistance in navigating the manor. He finally met the rest of the staff a few days after his job had begun. They were mildly affable people but Cisco found that they would much rather be left alone than spoken to. The strange voluntary loneliness that people in the city felt comfortable with was something Cisco thought the most different from his life on the farm. In his small town, everyone knew each other and if you went anywhere, you would return half an hour late because you got caught up in a conversation with a stranger.

             There was still something else within their behaviour. Their eyes always betrayed a judgement that Cisco was too familiar with. The reason behind it may have been different from that of his family’s but still, he recognized it well. Maybe it was his long hair or his very apparent country accent but he could tell from the moment their expressions flashed confusion before returning to forced interest when he told them he was the Marquess’ new servant, they thought him inferior. Caitlin was the only one out of the staff that gave him any time of day. Even if she was bustling around the manor if Cisco had a question or even if he just wanted to talk, she would listen.

             “Ramon,” Harrison finally spoke, “have you noticed any suspicious activity within the staff?”

             “Not really,” Cisco said as he gathered his thoughts, “they’re quite reluctant to speak to me.”

             Harrison stirred from his position in front of the map. He’d been studying it for quite a while now and Cisco had no idea what he was trying to figure out.

             “Are they suspicious?” He asked, a pen held to his lips.

             “I don’t think so,” Cisco said, “I think they just don’t want to talk to someone like me.”

             “Meaning?” Harrison turned fully, giving Cisco full attention—the same notice that always made him feel too exposed. For someone of his stature, the Marquess regarded Cisco like he could offer something of importance or interest.

             “You know,” Cisco ran his hands through his hair, “I don’t look or sound much like what they’re used to. Though I suppose I could use their disinterest to my advantage.”

             “Hm,” Harrison acknowledged as he studied the room, “don’t let this get to your head, Ramon, but so far I’ve found you to be quite interesting.” It didn’t go to his head but rather to a fluttering feeling in his stomach. Cisco stiffly nodded.

             “In any case, that is a good idea; keep wary of any mistrustful behaviour. Not sure if I mentioned this but I am meeting with a lord who may possibly provide more funding for the king’s militia tonight—if all goes well, that is.”

             “What am I to do?” Cisco asked.

             “I have to prepare for any possible questions he may ask before dinner, so you can tidy this place up. Do _not_ muddle around with any papers. I don’t need you wrecking my plans and letting our country lose a possible war.” Cisco couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

             “Understood, Harry,” the words left Cisco’s mouth before he could stop them, “uh—I mean, Marqu—Harrison. I apologize.” Instead of the scowl Cisco was expecting, the older man looked more amused than anything.

             “Harry is fine, Ramon. It’s preferable to Marquess—or god forbid _your honour._ ” The playfulness in his voice was out of the ordinary but Cisco didn’t mind it at all.

             “Of course,” Cisco said, looking down at his shiny shoes, “Harry.”

             With a nod, _Harry_ turned and began walking to the doorway. Before stepping out of the room, he froze, turning his head to glance at Cisco from the side.

             “You shall join me for dinner. This will be a good opportunity for you to see what exactly my job entails.” Not waiting for a response, Harry left, leaving Cisco at the centre of the room. Surrounded by disorganized piles of paper (but-organized to Harry) and strange toys and devices Cisco had been eyeing for days. Though they were tempting, Cisco turned away with a huff to the rest of the room. He knew that a fancy dinner meant helping Harrison get ready for it so he had a limited time to tidy up the room, get in a meal and do some spying, and any out-of-the-blue requests from Harry that Cisco had already become accustomed to.

             Cisco had no idea where to start. He took a safe bet and made the bed first before going around and picking up things from the ground and placing them neatly on the dresser or cabinet. A variety of pens, bottles, crumpled paper, and other objects lay scattered in the recesses of the room. Cisco had no idea how they got there but Harry’s ill-temper and grumpy manner was a big hint. Cisco wondered how many more times he could speak out, whether it was purposeful or not, before he got a pen right to the head.

             Many books littered the tables and ground as well. Cisco grabbed a random one, wondering what the Marquess read. All the books that were promptly sent to Cisco’s room when he began occupying it were fictional romance novels that had him rooting for the antagonist rather than the boring main characters. Because of this, Cisco was surprised to read the title “Energy and Engines” when he flipped it open. Knowing he didn’t have time to sit there and read it all, Cisco flipped through various sections and felt an excitement rise in his chest at the intricate diagrams of different engines around the world. The text that accompanied them talked about the differences between the models and how each regarded the loss of energy and obtaining maximum efficiency with their design. Slamming it closed before he wasted more time, Cisco tucked the book onto a shelf, making note to where it was. He reluctantly proceeded with the cleaning

             Paying heed to the “no touching” rule but at a cautious distance, Cisco patted the piles of paper on the ground till they were a little neater, making sure not to mess up the order they were in. He moved them closer to each other so they weren’t scattered around the room. Before proceeding to another task, Cisco flipped through a pile, skimming over the words in hopes he could pick out any that interested him. A lot were just maps of terrains that Cisco was unfamiliar with and most were letters from people that sounded important (and quite dull.) The name “Joseph West” flashed briefly in Cisco’s sight and he froze. Flipping back a few pages, Cisco found the sheet. It was a letter from the king.

            

             _Dear_ _Harrison_ _,_

 _In regards to the messages sent to Artheria, their King did not receive them. They were once again intercepted and the plans—your plans—are known to our enemies. As you know, we met to discuss face to face and you were responsible as to who were to carry the nature of those discussions to the King and which route they were to take. Someone of_ your _populace knew about that. I trust that you understand what I am saying,_ _Harrison_ _. Don’t let me down._

_Your king, Joseph West._

 

             All of a sudden, it felt all too real to Cisco as to what he dealing with--what his responsibilities were. _He_ was chosen by Harry to uncover the rat. The king was, in a way, relying on his abilities for a task so much more important than the farm duties Cisco knew. What if he were to fail? Cisco felt his shoulders become suddenly very heavy with burden. The nagging thought that the consequences of his failure would be on him raced through Cisco’s mind. _Maybe if I pissed Harry off enough, he’ll send me back_. It wasn’t something Cisco was going to do but a plan to fall back on was comforting. Backing away from such a burden felt cowardly but seeing your country enter a war that it would lose due to your indirect involvement wasn’t a comforting thought either.

             Taking a steadying breath, Cisco stood and looked around. The room was noticeably cleaner than when he started so he took that as a job well done. It was one o’clock so the manor cooks were preparing a meal for Lady Jesse. For lunch, the Wells’ didn’t like to spend much time eating. Jesse usually grabbed a plate of whatever the cooks made and stuck around to eat with the staff. Harry usually didn’t even have lunch. Though he wouldn’t admit it to the man, Cisco was sometimes concerned at how little he saw Harry eat. Locking the Marquess’ room with a key only he was provided, Cisco made his way to the kitchen.

             Lady Jesse was already there, sitting on a wobbly wooden stool that she always rocked back and forth on. The aroma that hit Cisco as soon as he stepped into the kitchen was marvellous. He recognized it as broth and meat and guessed soup. Opening the door to the room attached to kitchen, Cisco smiled with forged friendliness. The rest of the staff did the same. When Caitlin and Jesse noticed him from their chatter, they both called him over. Cisco grabbed another stool and dragged it beside them. Jesse had a bowl in hand and Cisco could tell she was anxious for a serving.

             “How are you, my lady?” Cisco asked as Caitlin hurried off with Jesse’s bowl.

      

             “I’m fine, Cisco,” she beamed, “and for the last time, call me Jesse.”

             “You’re so much like your father,” Cisco joked. She pulled a face.

             “Anyway, how has he been treating you?”

             “Oh, you know,” Cisco sighed dramatically, “Harry’s being Harry.”

             Jesse’s eyes widened and Cisco gave her a puzzled look. She looked to be almost vibrating with excitement.

             “Are you oka—?”

             “Did you just call him _Harry_?” Jesse’s voice was a thrilled whisper. Cisco sighed for real this time.

             He went to respond but something else caught his attention. A man with dark hair and glasses was whispering to another cook, giving not-so-subtle pointed glances in Cisco’s direction. Cisco didn’t know his name for he hadn’t cared enough to learn it but a few times when he dropped by in the kitchen, the young man seemed to be constantly berating the other cooks. Catching his eyes, Cisco gave the sweetest, fakest smile he could fathom. The man’s eyes darkened. Stalking around the table, he made his way (stomped as Cisco would have described it) to Cisco’s seat. Jesse watched in guarded interest. The expression she had was identical to her father’s.

             “Do you need something?” Cisco said, a friendly smile still present on his face.

             “Just because you’re the Marquess’ new servant, don’t think you run the place,” he spat. Now Cisco knew he was arguing for arguing sake.

             “I’m sorry but you’ll need to clarify,” Cisco replied, enunciating so as to deepen his accent.

             “Tell me, _Ramon_ ,” venom dripped from his tone, “do you think the Marquess would appreciate knowing your little pet-name for him? I don’t know how they do it in the country but here you should show some respect.”

             “Why don’t you ask _Harry_ yourself,” Cisco responded quietly, feeling anger bubbling up. The man wore a smug look and opened his mouth to respond.

             “Have you lost your wits, Hartley?” Jesse spoke. Her voice was quiet but powerful. Hartley’s eyes flicked over to her as his smug look was replaced with something anxious. He said nothing and Cisco hushed as well.

             “I—He—Lady Jesse, he can’t refer to your father like that,” he managed to sound confident despite the initial stuttering.

              “My father is a grown man. If he has a problem with a _name_ , he’ll let Cisco know.”

             “Yes, my lady,” Hartley said through a clenched jaw, giving Cisco one more spiteful glare before heading to the kitchen. Cisco refrained from laughing but couldn’t help a snort after the door shut behind Hartley.

             “What was that about?” Caitlin asked nervously, carrying three bowls of soup precariously in her hands. She handed one to Cisco and Jesse.

             “I’ll tell you about it later,” Jesse interrupted before Cisco could brag about her verbal beat down, “right now let’s just enjoy a meal.”

             Cisco joked around with the two girls as they ate, listening intently to Jesse’s stories about Harry and Caitlin’s accounts of her travels. Apparently, teaching Jesse was only one of her occupations, a doctor being the other. He listened with his mouth open in wonder as Caitlin told them of all the countries she’s been to as a doctor.

             “I work as the family doctor for this manor as well,” Caitlin explained. Cisco realized how much the Wells’ must’ve trusted her if she had that kind of responsibility.

             The rest of the meal was mostly comfortable silence as they focused on the tasty meal. Cisco kept his ears open to the conversations of the other staff in the room. It was mostly gossip within the servants and complaints from the cooks. Other than that, the conversations betrayed nothing out of the ordinary.

             “I don’t know what he’s going to do now,” a hushed voice came from the back corner of the room, “a new strategy, no doubt. No worries—if we caught him once, we’ll do it again.” _Now that’s interesting._ Cisco picked up the bowl and slowly slurped the soup, making sure to keep his eyes away from the pair. Trying his best to drown out all other sounds, Cisco listened.

             “Do you think he’s onto us? If he thought the last interception was a coincidence, it would have been a _very_ lucky one.” This one had a deeper, older voice that the other.

             “Don’t be stupid,” the other man hissed, “nothing’s changed yet. If he knew, the bastard would have started trying to sniff us out.”

             “There is that new servant,” the gruffer voice said, “do you think that means anything? There must have been other considerations as well. No way in hell would we be able to track them down. That damned asshole must’ve hired that servant on our break for a reason.”

             “Come on,” the younger one almost laughed, “him? My big toe serves more of a threat than him. I’ll bet the Marquess just hired him as a play thing. He has to get his rocks off somehow. ”

             Cisco choked on the soup, coughing as he brought the bowl down. He could feel their eyes on him as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Giving a reassuring laugh to Caitlin and Jesse, Cisco excused himself, blurting out whatever excuse he could find.

             “I’m going to bring some food back for Harry,” he heard the two men snort at his lack of grace. _At least they’re not onto me._ “He always skips lunch. I’ll see you two later.” Turning before they could see the red that was inevitably creeping up his cheeks, Cisco followed Hartley’s earlier path to the kitchen, not exhaling until the door behind him closed.

             “Did Lady Jesse berate you as well?” A smug, joking voice came from beside Cisco. He turned to see Hartley leaning against the counter, a dirty apron in one hand. Cisco just glared and shook his head, dismissing his irritation. Under the other man’s judgement, Cisco opened various cabinets, fumbling through plates and dishes for some kind of container.

             “Do you need something?” Hartley’s patronizing voice made Cisco flinch in frustration.

             “A container,” Cisco said quietly, hoping his distaste didn’t show as he gestured to the soup, “I need to bring some back for Harry.” Now Hartley winced and Cisco felt joy at the sight.

             “Top left,” Hartley merely said before heading back into the room Cisco had just left. Relieved in being spared from giving a phoney ‘thank you,’ Cisco opened the cabinet door, grabbed a container, poured in some soup and packed the lid on tightly. As he turned to leave, Cisco grabbed a piece of bread and a spoon, hoping nobody would miss either.

             After five minutes of looking, Cisco found Harry in the library. He hadn’t actually been in the library and had just assumed that due to the filled bookshelves, it was the room where he got hired in. That room seemed puny compared to the actual library. As he stepped onto the soft red carpet through large wooden doors, Cisco’s eyes widened. The shelves here reached the high ceilings and there were more books that he had ever seen in his life. One great table that rivalled the one in the dining room sat at the centre between all the shelves that surrounded it. A winding staircase led up to an entresol that separated the bottom floor and a smaller upper one. There were bookshelves up there as well and Cisco couldn’t manage to wrap his mind around what all those books were about and who they were for. He doubted that anyone but the Marquess and his daughter spend time in the library. Probably Caitlin if she had the time.

             Harry sat at the table, hunched over in an uncomfortable looking position, eyes moving over a thick and old-looking book. He didn’t look up even when the doors shut and Cisco didn’t move either. He was too transfixed on the sight of the older man. He was wearing dark, stylish glasses but still squinting at the words. Cisco hadn’t seen them before. Like always, Harry had taken off his suit jacket and hung it on the chair beside him.

             Cisco walked over, the tapping of his shoes still not garnering the other man’s attention. Clearing his throat when he reached the table, Cisco placed the container of soup down with the spoon and bread on top of it. Harry shifted his position to something that looked even more uncomfortable. Cisco rolled his eyes and decided to say something before the soup lost all its warmth.

             “Harry,” he said louder than necessary. The older man’s head snapped up as he sat up straighter in the wooden chair. His eyes were narrowed and looked glazed over when he looked at Cisco.

             “Ramon,” he mumbled, his voice clearly showing it hadn’t been used in the past few hours, “what are you doing here?”

             “Being your servant, I got you food,” Cisco nodded at the soup, “and I have things to report back.” Harry took off his glasses and Cisco was mesmerized by the movement. He gestured for the younger man to sit down.

             “I didn’t ask for anything, Ramon,” Harry grumbled as he grabbed food, “but I appreciate it.”

             “Did you just thank me?” Cisco said dramatically. Harry rolled his eyes, the smallest hint of a smile present on his face. Cisco noted how Harry didn’t snap at him. _He must be really tired._

“What do you have to report?” Harry asked, stuffing his mouth with the bread as he popped open the lid of the soup.

             “I may have found your rat,” Cisco said with a grin, “or rats in this case.” Harry’s brows raised and he swallowed. Watching the other man’s throat bob, Cisco swallowed as well. Harry gestured to continue, bringing a spoonful of broth, beef, and vegetables to his mouth.

             “Anyways,” Cisco averted his eyes as Harry pulled the spoon out, “so far I’ve picked out two of the cooks—whose names they’ve been reluctant to tell. I don’t know if there are more but I can find out.”

             “You aren’t in any danger, are you?” The seriousness in Harry’s voice made Cisco lose his train of thought.

             “Uh, no, I’m not. They brought up my hiring but were quite quick to dismiss the basis behind it for…another reason.” Cisco cleared his throat and let hair fall over his face, feeling himself flush.

             “Nonetheless, your new job being something that _was_ brought up in the first place may be risky,” Harry pushed the somehow already half finished soup aside, “That suspicion—no matter how small—could still be lingering, which can be hazardous.” Cisco nodded.

             “I’ll be careful,” he replied. Harry studied him for a second before an expression that Cisco had become familiar with popped up—an idea.

             “Unless we perpetuate their explanation for your hiring,” Harry leaned forward, shutting the book with a thud, “people love seeing their ideas being reassured. It drops their guard.”

             Cisco gulped, looking around for some way he could escape. How in the world was he supposed to tell Harry that the snitches thought someone like him was hired because Harry—how did they phrase it— _‘needed to get his rocks off?’_ _Why, yes, Marquess, let’s perpetuate it. Make sure you leave marks so as to utterly convince them._ Cisco winced as Harry snapped his fingers.

             “Ramon, did you hear me?” He sounded annoyed. “What did they say?”

             “They said—they believe,” Cisco stuttered, still not making eye contact, “I’m your… _play thing_.” Cisco gave Harry credit for not looking too shocked.

             “Oh,” was all the Marquess said. If it weren’t for the awkward silence, Cisco would have laughed at Harry’s lack of words (and then promptly been fired.) In any case, Cisco couldn’t even imagine being…involved with someone like Harry. _He’s way out of my league,_ Cisco thought. That was true in a sense, considering the older man was a Marquess whom the _king_ confided in and Cisco was…well, Cisco.

             “I will admit that it’s hard to imagine you would get mixed up with someone like me,” Cisco said light-heartedly in hopes the tension would dissipate. Harry’s eyes narrowed in response and Cisco realized he might have missed the target.

             “What does that mean, Ramon?”

             “I just—I mean,” Cisco tried to come up something to say, “I’m probably not your type.”

             “And what’s my type?” Harry asked, sounding more amused than angry. Cisco felt a strange frustration at how much he enjoyed seeing him squirm.

             “Oh, let’s see, tall, blonde,” Cisco ticked off, thinking back to the family painting, “female.”

             Harry opened his mouth to respond but decided against it. Instead he pushed back his chair as he stood up, picking up the book in one hand. Cisco couldn’t help but watch the corded muscles of his forearm flex from the weighty tome. He walked straight, reaching the corner of the table and coming to a stop right beside Cisco. The younger man was staring at the table, waiting for Harry to leave. He placed a hand on the table, right in Cisco’s eye sight. Without thinking, Cisco carried his gaze up the other man’s arm till he reached his eyes. Their faces were astonishingly close but Cisco couldn’t move.

             “You know, Ramon,” Harry’s tone was rasped and Cisco felt an urge to lean forward—just to drink in the intimacy, “you shouldn’t make assumptions.”

              Harry pulled away, dragging his fingers over the smooth wood of the table before continuing his way past Cisco. The younger man felt star struck in the sudden shift of air as he blinked, trying to figure out what just happened. His heart pounded in his ears and he realized he was holding his breath only when the door shut. _Okay, alright, okay,_ Cisco rambled in his head.

             “What are you doing?” He said to himself, putting his face into his hands. This was definitely dangerous territory. It was intriguing, attractive, and oh so risky. There was a big part of his mindset that had a feeling Harry was doing this for nothing more than his own amusement. It was a bitter thought but a very real possibility—so real that Cisco knew not to get his hopes up. With an exasperated groan, Cisco stared at the half-eaten soup. He put the lid back on and looked around the library. For some reason, it felt even larger than before. Cisco decided to stay there till Harry needed him.

             There was probably some kind of system with how they were arranged but Cisco just wandered around, pulling whatever looked interesting. Something that particularly caught his eye was a large maroon novel with the solar system on the cover. It looked beautiful and Cisco brought it to the table. He wasn’t actually trying to find something to delve into for the sake of learning but rather to distract himself.  Despite this, Cisco buried his head into the world outside his own for nearly three hours—or so he guessed when he finally looked up, seeing the clock read 4:30. The comforting and distracting peace from reading still hung heavy on his bones when Cisco realized he had to help Harry before the dinner.

             Not bothering to put the book away, Cisco grabbed the container of now cold soup and hurried out. On his way to the Marquess’ room, Cisco dropped by the kitchen, dumping out the soup and tossing the container into the sink. Before they could yell at him, Cisco said a quick thank you and jogged to Harry’s room.

             “Hi, sorry, I got—uh—caught up,” Cisco panted as he pushed open the door, “I’m here to help.”

             Like always, the sight of the man was a surprise for Cisco. A towel hung around his neck as water drops trailed down from his dark hair. He wore a pair of loose dark pants that hung low at his waist. A black sleeveless shirt that was so different from anything Cisco had seen him in covered his chest. A sliver of the pale skin of his hips peeked out as Cisco’s eyes dragged over him.

             “Right on time, Ramon,” Harry said, pulling the towel down, “I already washed myself so pull a suit out and help me get dressed.” Cisco nodded, eyeing his toned arms before moving through the room to the closet. As he walked past, the younger man caught a whiff of Harry. _Vanilla and plumeria._ It was intoxicating. Opening the doors, Cisco froze when he saw there wasn’t an already picked out suit there. Rows of dress shirts, waistcoats, and dress pants and jackets were hung in an organized fashion.

             “Uh, Harry, where’s the suit?”

             “You pick it out,” Harry said, tossing the towel onto his bed. He walked over to Cisco, stopping behind him. “I trust your taste.”

             They were all dark colours so Cisco doubted it would be difficult to mess up even if he grabbed at random but he looked around anyways. Another thing he wouldn’t admit to anyone is that he has favourites as to what Harry wore. The man looked good in everything he wore but something about some suits pushed it over the edge. Feeling the gaze of the other man on his back, Cisco reached in, pushing aside hangers till he found what he was looking for. Coloured clothing was something Cisco wanted to see on Harry but he couldn’t not admit the man looked damn good in dark colours.

                Carrying an all-black ensemble save for the shirt, Cisco side-stepped Harry and carried the clothes to the bed. Laying the shiny fabric down so that he could admire his choice, Cisco stood back and crossed his arms. Harry walked up beside him.

             “I like it,” Harry said.

             “I like it, too,” Cisco replied, feeling confident.

             “Remind me to buy you some new suits,” Harry said and Cisco turned to look at him in surprise, finding—instead of bright blue eyes—Harry’s scarred back. He was pulling the shirt over his head and the contrast between his pale skin and the dark fabric was captivating. Cisco cleared his throat, picking up the white dress shirt and walking over to Harry.

             “I know you don’t appreciate this,” Cisco said as the other man turned to face him, “but it would definitely take less time if you put on the clothes.”

             “I like when you do it,” Harry said simply as if the confession didn’t make Cisco’s heart trip over itself.

              Being used to the process, Cisco was able to get all of the separate pieces on in record time. Harry still put on his own pants and Cisco didn’t complain. With a final pat of the tie, Cisco stepped back, studying the suit. The blazer was slightly darker than the waistcoat and pants but that only brought everything together. The tie had a faint silver floral pattern that Cisco hadn’t noticed until he put it on. Nonetheless, it added interest to the dark fit. Going with a safe bet, Cisco chose a pair of shiny, black dress shoes. He couldn’t help but smirk at how good it looked. Maybe it was just the man wearing it.

             Looking back up to Harry’s eyes, Cisco felt himself bloom exposed under the softness in his eyes. It was there for only a second but Cisco knew he’d see it for the rest of the night. A water droplet travelling slowly down his temple caught his sight. Reaching out to wipe it away, Cisco nearly sighed in relief when Harry didn’t pull away.

             “Your hair’s still wet, Harry,” he said.

             “It’ll dry before he gets here,” the older man replied, “now fix up your own hair.” Cisco frowned as he looked in the mirror.

             “What’s wrong with it?”

             “Nothing,” Harry said, fingers twitching as if to reach out and touch it, “but the man you’re about to meet won’t take kindly to it, I’m sure. He’s…old fashioned.”

             “And you’re not?” Cisco joked.

             “The fact your still here despite your mouth is proof I’m not, Ramon.”      

             Cisco hid a smile as he felt his wrist for a hair band. As he ran his hands through his hair, pulling it back into a ponytail, Cisco realized how long it was getting. Cisco twisted it into a loose bun instead and studied it. _Good enough._

             “Alright,” Cisco said, turning to Harry, “let’s go.”

             “Yes,” Harry’s eyes were fixed on his hair. They fell to Cisco's dark eyes--to Cisco's lips, before he turned around, “let’s.”

            

             ----

            

             The charm that oozed off of Harry was attractive and Cisco knew he’d manufactured it exactly for the old man that stepped out of the carriage. They stood outside the manor in front of the doors that Cisco had admired the first time he got there. Autumn had progressed farther than Cisco had realized during his time in the manor. The biting wind nipped at his uncovered ears and Cisco found the feeling unfamiliar. The trees were completely bare and the grey sky signified the coming of winter. A picture of the snow-covered fields of his family’s farm sparked in his mind and Cisco felt a tinge of guilt. He realized how little he’d thought about them these past few weeks. Forcing it down, Cisco focused on the man before him. Lord William, as Cisco learned his name was, laughed loudly as Harry spoke. He hadn’t even acknowledged that Cisco existed but Cisco knew exactly what kind of person he was. From his behaviour and the way he spoke, Cisco already despised him. Still, a polite smile remained on his face.

             The cool wind hushed as the manor door closed behind them. Cisco walked behind Harry and the other man and watched as they talked—well, it was more like Lord William talked and Harry listened—or pretended to listen. Harry stood nearly a foot taller and hunched down slightly to accommodate the other man. Cisco only looked at Harry. His still slightly damp curls, his lean frame, the way his dimples showed when he smiled. They finally reached the dining room and Cisco stood beside the chair Harry sat in. When Lord William wasn’t looking, Harry gave Cisco’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Cisco’s heart jumped.

             “Harrison, I sure hope you don't spoil me,” the ridiculously posh and pompous voice was louder in the empty room.

             “What kind of host would I be if you leave feeling anything but spoiled?” Harry spoke smoothly.

             “I suppose you’re right,” the old man laughed, “but let’s talk business over dinner. Tell me about Lady Jesse. I’ve heard she’s grown up to be an attractive young lady.”

             “She’s well,” Harry said. The other man didn’t notice but Cisco could hear the resentment in his voice.

             “When are you going to find a husband for her? I’m sure any boy would appreciate a fine young lady like that.”

             Cisco could almost hear the grinding of Harry’s teeth as he clenched his jaw. He couldn’t blame him. Even though he’d only known her for a few weeks, Cisco felt anger of his own bubble up at the words of the old man. If someone like Harrison knew how intelligent his daughter was, hearing some asshole talk about her like an object of vanity must be eating him alive.

             “She has time,” his voice was lower than what Cisco recognized, “anyways, how’s the wife?”

             “A handful,” Lord William complained, “she insisted on coming here, you know. I have a suspicion she’s interested in you, Harrison. You need to get married again before she leaves me for you.” The joking tone made Cisco want to lean over and deck him in the face. Instead, he bit his lip and took a breath.

             “I’ve been meaning to ask,” Lord William nodded towards Cisco, “who’s this one.”

             “This is Francisco Ramon,” Harry glanced up, “he’s my new servant. He’s observing tonight—seeing what my job entails.”

             “Oh,” the old man finally made eye contact with Cisco, “then he can speak English.”

             _Fucking asshole piece of shit,_ Cisco spat in his mind, taking a lot of effort to not betray it on his face. “Yes, my lord.” Surprise flashed on his face at Cisco’s accent but he didn’t say anything. Harry looked up, giving Cisco a thankful look before turning his attention back to the other man.

             “Why is your hair so long, boy?” Lord William continued to no one's joy.

             “I’ve always worn it long, my lord,” Cisco replied, “I feel it suits me better.”

             The man snorted, turning to look at Harry. He leaned in and whispered. Cisco still heard.

             “What is he, a poof?”

             Harry’s grip on the edge of the table was knuckle-white. His own anger melded with the pure heat coming from Harry and if the servers hadn’t barged in with food, Cisco might have throttled the man. Lord William looked over his shoulder at the doorway and Harry took Cisco’s hand again. Bringing it to his mouth, Harry placed a gentle kiss over his knuckles. Cisco’s breath caught, his anger dissipating at the feeling of his lips. It lingered even when his hand fell back to his side. The servers at the door looked almost as shocked as Cisco felt. _Ah,_ Cisco thought—surprisingly calm, _they saw._

               They left as soon as the dishes were placed down and revealed. Some perplexed glances were thrown in Cisco’s direction before the room emptied. The rest of the meeting was tolerable. The man made some stupid jokes and Harry pretended they were funny. He ignored Cisco the entire time which Cisco was more than content with. Despite the urge to throw a turkey leg at his gaudy suit, Cisco took Harry’s advice and listened to the lord. Harry explained the importance of the funding and the higher societal standing Lord William could earn by backing the king up. The mention of perceived power was what Cisco had a feeling the old man really cared about. People like him have more than enough money to throw around as long as it provides more power. Something he said at the end of the meeting got an interesting response from Harry that Cisco couldn’t help but notice.

             “Line the troops up right up against Artheria,” Lord William had said, “test the waters. So what if a handful of men die, I’m sure the king could rally more together.”

             Harry had tensed immediately. Cisco could see his eyes begin to glaze over as he stared down at the table. He looked and even sounded disconnected when he ended the meeting, saying thank you to the other man. Even as he shook his hand, Harry didn’t look entirely there. Cisco didn’t understand—he’d gotten the funding.

             Lord William left on his own accord and Cisco was glad he didn’t have to see him out. As soon as the dining room door closed, Harry turned to Cisco, stepping forward till they were only a foot and half away from each other. He was anxious and Cisco could feel it. The unease floated like an aura around him.

             “He’s a fuckwit,” Cisco said, not caring about the consequences. Harry just laughed. It was weak but it was there. He was there.

             “Yeah, he is,” Harry said quietly, stepping closer and leaning in. Cisco had to look up to meet his eyes. He wondered when this had happened. When they’d become so intimate. Small glances here and there. Small touches here and there. Silent pining. That’s all Cisco knew. Harry spoke first, blurting out without thinking.

             “I want to kiss you, Cisco Ramon.”

             There was a hint of desperation in his voice. Cisco mind was numb. He kept wondering, what happened tonight that catalyzed their intimacy? Why did it feel like he’s known Harry for years? Cisco opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out. So he nodded, a piece of hair slipping out from the bun and over his cheek. Harry brought his hand to the younger man’s jaw, a calloused thumb caressing Cisco’s skin as he pushed the hair to the side. Cisco leaned into the touch, his heart beating louder with each passing second. Harry’s blue eyes studied Cisco, taking everything in. He leaned forward, one last exhale before their lips met.

             Harry tasted like the wine he’d drank and Cisco melted into his soft lips. Cisco felt the older man’s hand on his lower back as he pulled him closer. Their lips danced. It was gentle at first and Cisco let himself fall into the pleasure. They kissed deeper, further still, when Cisco parted his lips, gasping as Harry’s slipped his tongue in. It was messy but Cisco didn’t want it any other way. Only when they were both nearly panting did Cisco pull back. Eyes fluttering open, Harry leaned down, touching their foreheads together. Cisco felt high at the sight of Harry’s blue eyes this close—their breaths taking in the same air. Harry leaned back, hands still on Cisco jaw and back. Cisco clung to Harry’s waist like it was life support and nearly whined at the loss of contact.

             “Now what,” Cisco said shakily, hand moving to Harry’s stomach. He panted as he felt the taller man instinctively arch into the touch.

             “Now,” Harry sounded spent, “I want to take a bath. It’s been far too long of a day.”

             He slipped away, not breaking eye contact and Cisco refrained from lurching forwards to hold the other man. Cisco nodded, very dazed and a little high on pleasure.

             “You’re free to join me,” Harry smirked, “in the tub I mean.”

             Cisco’s eyes widened. He beamed as Harry held out his hand. Cisco took it, bringing it to his lips. A gentle kiss to mirror Harry’s during the meeting was all the warning Cisco gave before he parted his lips, running his tongue over Harry’s knuckles. The older man chuckled breathlessly at the feeling—at the sight, before pulling his hand back and gesturing for Cisco to follow.

             Without getting a change of clothes, Cisco followed Harry to the bathroom near his chambers. As soon as they stepped in, Harry’s lips were on him, his hands unbuttoning Cisco’s jacket, unfastening his waistcoat, ripping open the buttons with ease. Before he could progress to his pants, Cisco brought a hand to Harry’s chest, pushing him back a little. Harry’s pouted and Cisco thought it was delightful.

             “I didn’t bring a change of clothes, Harry,” Cisco said, “and I have to run the bath first. Just get undressed.”

             Expecting resistance, Cisco was surprised to see Harry sigh and start stripping. Though he could have watched the sight for hours, Cisco turned his attention to the bath. He used the same scents as always but made sure to add only a little foam. He wanted to see all of Harry. Cisco took the last of his clothes off and folded them lazily, placing them far from the tub. He felt exposed under Harry’s gaze but he felt good. When the water was high enough, Cisco turned off the tap and slipped into the steaming water, groaning at the feeling of it around his muscles. Harry still had his underwear on and Cisco thanked whatever god let him get the chance to see the man pull them down. Harry smirked, knowing exactly where Cisco’s gaze was. He slipped in as well, making sure to face Cisco, their legs entangling until they were both comfortable. Harry put on a show, propping his elbows up, spreading his legs, tilting his head back—all for Cisco. Accepting the sight eagerly, Cisco took it all in. Watching the water move around his body, Cisco thought Harry looked heavenly.  The older man caught his gaze before it moved down and back up. Cisco averted his eyes as he felt himself blush.

             “Look at you, Ramon;” Harry said softly, “you're utterly striking,”

             “Says you,” Cisco scoffed. Harry just smiled.

             “Come here,” Harry said.

             Cisco blinked in surprise, feeling droplets on his eyelashes. Taking any chance to get closer, Cisco changed position from his back to his knees. The cool air hit his wet torso and Cisco felt a shiver run through him. He inched closer and leaned into Harry’s chest. Without giving him any time to prepare, Cisco kissed him—only briefly before he moved to his jaw, lips dragging over the man’s sharp mandible. Cisco couldn’t help himself as he moved lower to Harry’s neck. The sharp exhale from the older man prompted him further. Cisco bitted and sucked at the skin, lips not breaking contact as he breathed against the other man. They would probably leave marks and the thought was enthralling to Cisco. He shifted his position to lower himself, lips and teeth moving to Harry’s clavicle.

             “Ramon,” Harry growled at the feeling. Cisco dragged his tongue against the already steam-soaked skin, the sensation rousing for both of them.

             “Ramon,” Harry said more steadily, “as much I would _love_ to continue this, I have work to do.” Cisco pulled back, groaning in complaint.

             “Trust me,” Harry reassured with a smile, “we _will_ continue another time.” Cisco kissed his reddened lips, not being able to stop his own from twitching up in a smile.  


End file.
